“I thank you all, heartily,” said Dr. Brent, “scouts and audience alike, and if I could make a speech I would, but I am not prepared—” At this, the whole house laughed and applauded.
“It may seem strange for a scoutmaster to have to stand up and make such a confession, but you will admit that I am not wholly deficient in the scout law, and that I, at least, know how to smile and look pleasant.” (Roars of laughter.)
“Ladies and gentlemen, and fellow-scouts, I have had the time of my life—” (He put on his gold specs and immediately took them off again.) “I have had my reward—the privilege of being with these splendid boys all summer.” (Applause.) “There is nothing coming to me.” (Voice, “That’s all you know about it!”) “I would rather have these boys for friends—I would rather have them believe in me—than to have the friendship of the most influential man in the United States.” (Voice, “You’ve got your wish, Doctor!”) “I would rather have seen and heard what I have seen and heard this summer than to have my college training.” (Cheers for Red Deer.) “But I am not here to talk. You will be glad to know that three of our troop, Daniel Swift, John Walden, and Gordon Lord, are to be enrolled as first-class scouts, and Howard Brent as second-class scout. We are also glad to welcome Penfield Danforth into the ranks of the tenderfeet. You may be slightly interested to know that I myself have won the archery badge.” (Voice, “Bully for you, Doc!”) “And that Matthew Reed, our troop jester,” (laughter) “is to wear the badge for marksmanship. I could win this badge myself if I tried.” (Laughter and applause.) “You all know Brick—er—I mean, Winfield Parks. He has used up every photographic film in upper New York and he has a snapshot menagerie. We are going to give him the stalker’s badge to keep him quiet.” (Applause.) “You all know Ki—that is, Gordon Lord. He is good to take three times a day, after meals, especially if you have the blues.” (Broad scout smile from Gordon.) “I have been authorized by the committee of awards of the National Scout Council to tender to Gordon Lord the bronze medal. This medal is given for helping to save or preserve life. Those of you who have read the history of our troop’s summer, as printed in the local press, know of the circumstances which led to this award, and it is not necessary for me to rehearse the details of how this boy discovered an injured fellow-scout, bleeding and unconscious, in a ditch, bandaged his wounds in the darkness of night, and sent him aid. If he had not discovered the boy and sent help to him, the injured scout would have died—there is little doubt of that. I am glad, Gordon,” he said, “that you have passed the first-class tests, for it makes the awarding of this badge possible. Come here, my boy.”
Gordon never looked quainter, more original, more jaunty, than when he stepped forward to receive the badge. There was not a person in the hall but smiled to see his round head cocked sideways and looking up at Red Deer. He wore a brand-new scout suit in honor of the occasion, and as he waited he gave his stocking just the suggestion of a hitch, which brought down the house.
As the audience burst into applause and laughter, Gordon joining in charming bewilderment at the great hit he was making, the national councilman beckoned to him and cordially shook his hand. He was so delightfully confused when he went to take his seat that he marched plunk into the Hawk Patrol, to the great amusement of the Beavers opposite. It was too late to correct his mistake; the Hawks hung on to him and there he sat wedged between Mac and Tilford Morrel, who glared triumphantly at their brother scouts across the stage.
Then Red Deer introduced the gentleman representing the award committee of the National Council. He was a very well-known man, and the Oakwood people greeted him enthusiastically.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and scouts,” he said, “the sight of this genial audience watching and applauding these fine boys and their beloved scoutmaster was worth coming a long way to see. It is easy to understand why they worship him and why he is proud of them—why you are all proud of the scouts and their leader. I thank you for giving me such a welcome, but I am not here to make a speech. Rather, will I speak to you in the words of others, for I bring back to you words which have come to us from your own town. And I am to perform a duty which cannot be performed by your scoutmaster. It is a duty which I am not accustomed to, as it has only twice been performed before in this country. The National Council is in receipt of a letter signed by all you boys save one,” he went on, turning to the troop, “but the action which you requested had been already decided upon. You are acquainted with Mr. E. C. Wade, scoutmaster of the 1st Albany Troop.” (Applause from the boys.) “A letter of similar purport was received from him, signed by every member of his three patrols.” (“Vile redcoats!” Mac whispered in Gordon’s ear.)
Harry looked about, puzzled. Charlie Greer pounded him on the knee, and winked across at the Hawks’ corporal.
The little flurry of excitement among the troop was abruptly ended by the councilman’s next words. “A complaint has been received against one of your number,” said he. A dead silence prevailed. Even Red Deer took off his glasses and stared. Then he smiled.
“The National Council is in receipt of a letter signed by a name which cannot be ignored, a name which is widely known in the realm of commercial enterprise and of public charity. It appears that one member of your troop has occasioned this gentleman a considerable annoyance.” You could have heard a pin drop, as he unfolded a typewritten letter and read: